Paper Boy

In my dream, I was in love with a boy.
He took my hand in his and laughed.
We stood in a cave, beneath the earth and all I could see were our hands locked together; key and lock, lock and key.
Then we were running like children, fleeing the darkness. We ran until we had reached fresh air and open space.
The sun in the sky was orange; magnificent and kind. It warmed us and caressed us, breathing life into our silent souls, touching us with beauty.
I felt my hair grow thick and strong, my skin began to glow.
My heart beat faster, pumping good healthy blood around my body. I felt myself ripening.
Then, with sudden chaos, and wrenching the boy from my side, mirrors began thrusting upwards, penetrating the ground, their edges jagged and sharp; violent statues that I feared.
I was alone and my skin was hot. I had a fever. My eyes burned; I could not see.
"Where are you?", I whispered.
The air was growing heavy, the sky darkening. This was not freedom.
Then voices began to call me. Piercing me with their unnatural sound.
I shouted for the boy. He was beside me in an instant, soothing me with gentle words. I stared at him, eyes focussing slowly on his skin for he had changed; his form was different and he was pale and fragile.
I reached out to touch him.
"But you are made of paper!", I cried.
He flinched; paper tears fell.
"And you of fire", he wept.